“HOPE NEVER LEFT”: THE NARRATIVE OF ‘ABSENT FATHERS’ IN BLACK COMMUNITIES IS NOT A PROBLEM
Growing up in a single-mother household in Georgia, I learned as a young Black boy that fathers, like my own, were not in the picture because they were “deadbeats.” When I became a teenager, I came across examples of a present father on television shows like the “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” Uncle Philip Banks, father and patriarch, remained physically present despite the challenges. The message received was, ‘Fathers never leave their family. They stick and stay through the ups and downs.’ I later learned, however, that many Black fathers who are not in the picture are still hoping to be. The narrative that father absence isn’t a significant issue for Black communities is a false one, but so is the narrative that absent fathers are just “deadbeats” to be written off, with no desire to be involved. The way forward for Black communities lies somewhere between recognizing the very real actuality that father absence is an issue we must face, while also recognizing the humanity, need for support, and desire for better in the fathers who have found themselves “absent” in our communities.
Several messages have surfaced in the last three years, suggesting that the narrative of father absenteeism in Black communities is problematic. In 2020, Josh Levs wrote an op-ed in Newsweek entitled, ‘They’re Dragging Out the ‘Absent Black Fathers’ Myth Again. Can We Give it a Rest?’”. Josh discusses the term ‘fatherless,’ the way it’s described, and acknowledges that fatherlessness “is more common among African American families than among others.” Subsequently, he delves into the systematic issues contributing to broken families (police brutality and mass incarceration). Other Black men like Professor of African and African American Studies at Duke University, Mark Anthony Neal, wrote about their views on Absenteeism, viewing it as a curse to the Black race. Another argument worth mentioning is one presented by Michael Denzel Smith. He argues that by focusing on the ‘supposed absent Black father’ narrative, we are “scapegoating black men for America’s societal ills.”
Even as others across the country share their views on the ‘absent black father’ narrative, it is imperative to recognize that if we argue that the narrative of ‘father absence’ in Black communities is problematic, we are doing more than just sharing a perspective; we are diluting the experiences of Black fathers that are absent for various reasons (relationship issues, sickness, and death). For more than 20 years, fatherhood practitioners have worked to create safe havens for Black fathers. Agencies such as Fathers’ UpLift, The Center for Urban Families, and many more have focused on supporting fathers that feel overwhelmed by systematic oppression. Fatherhood practitioners have engaged in different efforts, including but not limited to child support advocacy, parenting groups, and legal support, to uplift Black fathers.
Recognizing the circumstances that lead to fathers being absent (less involved than they would like) is a gift in disguise. On the other hand, failing to acknowledge the truth within the father absence narrative, regardless of the complexities, ignores the history of oppression in Black and African American communities. It also fails to consider the issues that fatherhood practitioners work to address alongside fathers daily to ensure they have a fair shot in their children’s lives.
After completing my graduate studies in clinical social work (2012), I opened a mental health and substance use treatment facility for fathers and families. In this process, I learned that acknowledging ‘absence’ is not a bad thing, contrary to what some may believe. Shedding light on the father absence narrative in Black communities is not saying that there are no present Black fathers. Both narratives can co-exist. If a father is not present, it is for a reason, and often that father wants to be involved. This lesson did not come from a professor. It came from George, a father who I met in 2014. We met through his wife, a teacher in Massachusetts. George wanted help reconnecting with his daughter. He was one of those fathers considered ‘absent’ when we met and one of the 250,000 individuals with a Left Ventricular Assist Device (LVAD). This father lived in another state, thousands of miles from his daughter. He was also waiting for a heart transplant. George spoke about his love for his daughter every time we met. Early in our work together, George could not stop talking about how much he missed his daughter; and how he embarked on several attempts to be in her life before being connected to me, each resulting in an unfavorable outcome.
Over a cup of tea, George and I would plan and evaluate the progress of our efforts. Our work together continued for an entire year. George’s desires eventually became a reality. He was reconnected to his daughter, receiving shared custody and bringing a three-year court battle with the mother of his child to an end. Months following this accomplishment, George became a fatherhood practitioner, supporting fathers with the goal of remaining in their children’s lives. His most significant feat was to come.
While I was tending to the needs of other fathers, George was tending to another issue, a failing heart. His LVAD was no longer working. In between various visits to the hospitals and several surgeries, George immersed himself in prayer and scripture. I remember visiting him in the ICU one evening after work. While sitting next to his bed, without much to say, he looked at me with tears in his eyes as he laid in excruciating pain and whispered, “I need prayer, Charles. I’m experiencing spiritual warfare….” Hesitantly, I honored his request and prayed with him as he lay overwhelmed by the days leading up to this moment. The weeks following the encounter were quiet. I did not hear from George.
On September 16th, 2021, a month and a half after our last encounter, George called me with some news. In a clearing Friday afternoon during this call, he said, “Charles, I got my heart….” George underwent surgery a few hours before our conversation. In disbelief, I asked, “Is it real?” He replied, “Yes. It is.”
MYTH VS. REALITY
Father absence in Black communities is not a myth, nor is it problematic to recognize. According to the U.S. Census, about 15.3 million children lived with only their mothers in 2020 (46.3% were black). Additionally, 3 million children lived without their father or mother in 2020, which was most common for black children (8%). Based on data compiled from Pew and the U.S. Census, we were able to estimate that 13.6% of children in the US (nearly 10 million) interact with their fathers less than once a month. George’s situation is not the only one of its kind. Millions of parents like George in Black communities’ face obstacles that impede their ability to be present physically and emotionally.
ABSENCE DOES NOT MEAN DADS DON’T CARE
Acknowledging the experiences of parents like George does not mean that there aren’t fathers or mothers doing the best they can. In 2020, 3.3 million children lived with their fathers only; this is not a little acknowledgment. Fathers of all races are showing up and have always done so. Nonetheless, if we acknowledge the present fathers, let’s not forget about those fathers that ‘want to be present’ but lack the support from organizations and fatherhood practitioners. We also should not forget about those fathers battling health issues that make it impossible for them to consistently be present in their children’s lives.
HOPE NEVER LEFT
I called George to check on him days after our phone call. He was in good spirits, recuperating and awaiting the day he finally leaves the hospital. I FaceTimed him from the comfort of my kitchen. After a brief check-in about his health, George looked at me with a smile and whispered,
“Charles, hope never left….”
I would argue that every father who’s considered absent has a ‘hope,’ hope that they will one day be a part of their children’s lives the way they envisioned. Granted, some fathers may want nothing to do with their children, but this is a tiny percentage in Black communities. For many Black fathers, being present remains a goal, even in their absence. The wish to be connected remains intact. While we spend time arguing that the calling out of the Father Absence narrative in Black communities is problematic, let’s explore why absence occurs so we can address it. Absence does not mean Black fathers don’t care. It also doesn’t mean that there aren’t Black fathers that are physically and emotionally present on a consistent basis. Black fathers can be absent and ‘hopeful’ that they will one day be involved in the manner they desire. Besides, when we acknowledge that the narrative exists, we can continue to work to eliminate it. Suggesting that we should not acknowledge it does not do anything to address the issue. All narratives are authentic, and they have their place. The Black father that receives the stares when he is with his children can be acknowledged for his efforts. The same is true for the Black father who’s fighting for more time with his children; the struggles leading to his absence can also be acknowledged. I now know what George meant when he said, “Hope Never Left,” Just because you can’t see me, does not mean I am not there. My absence and hope to be a part of my children’s lives deserves to be counted.
